


I (don't) Belong To You

by Polaroid_Memoir



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Connor Likes Being Talked Down To, Dirty Talk, Face Slapping, Hand Jobs, It's consensual, Light Knifeplay, M/M, Objectification, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, bottom!Connor, degradation kink, top!hank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25957747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polaroid_Memoir/pseuds/Polaroid_Memoir
Summary: Connor has a degradation kink that Hank indulges him in. He likes to be objectified and talked down to because he's an android, so they play out a scene together.____It's all consensual and Connor appreciates it very much, they always look after each other afterwards. - That being said, please mind the tags! Hank says some very derogatory things to Connor and play-threatens him with a knife.____
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88





	I (don't) Belong To You

He sat on their bed facing the door. Stock still. Spine straight. His hands folded perfectly in his lap. He waited. As soon as Hank walked through that door, the scene would begin. The anticipation kept him alert to an excruciating degree, he was hyper-aware of every disturbance coming from the rest of the house. He checked his posture once more and readied himself.

The door opened.  
Connor didn't react.

Hank walked in, he closed the door behind him and stepped forward towards the bed.

"The fuck are you doing here?"

Connor didn't react.

"Hey!"

Connor didn't react.

"I'm talking to you, answer me you fucking plastic asshole!"

"I am sorry. I am simply following my instructions. My owner told me to wait here," Connor spoke as he did when he was first activated, before he'd quite mastered contractions.

"Oh yeah? How long do you think they'll be gone?" Hank asked, he rubbed his chin and licked his lips whilst sizing Connor up. Damn. He was really getting into character, and Connor loved it.

Connor didn't react.

"Listen plastic prick. How long will they be? Answer me!"

"I am not at liberty to disclose that information."

"… Not at liberty," Hank mumbled as he stepped forward into Connor's personal space. He grabbed hold of Connor's face in his hand and yanked it up to make him stand.

"Ain't you supposed to follow orders?"

Connor kept his gaze distant, as if he were looking through Hank.

"Look at me!"

Connor complied.

"I said, ain't you supposed to follow orders!?" Hank said with a raised voice as he increased the intensity of his grip.

"I am only permitted to accept orders from designated individuals," Connor said as he let his eyes glaze back over again.

"I've fuckin' had _enough_ of you," Hank let go of his face and slapped it hard with the same hand. The shock sent arousal straight to Connor's core.

"I can't believe there are still androids acting like _machines_ these days. I think you're just hiding that you can feel. I thinking you're a fucking _deviant_ who just doesn't want to have to face how difficult life is for the rest of us." Hank jeered.

If Connor weren't keeping such a tight control over himself he would've let out a swear or two because. Fuck. Hank was perfectly on point, delivering exactly what Connor had wanted.

"I'm not a deviant," he replied, allowing a small amount of sadness into his voice.

"You don't sound too sure about that," Hank said as he raised his hand again, "I wonder if I can make you flinch."

Oh, _fuck_. Hank was going hard, and Connor was so grateful for it.

Hank started slapping each side of Connor's face alternately, with increasing force.

Each blow causing the pressure receptors in his cheeks to spike sharply, the signal travelled through him to his processors. It was filed as both 'pleasure' and 'pain'.

As the assault continued the sensation got to be a little too much, but that's what he was after. He felt the urge to cry, and he let it happen. He let his 'tears' fall silently. Still glassy eyed. Still unflinching.

It was perverse, but it felt _so good_ to be able to channel his experiences in this way. To re-contextualise them and process them in a safe environment. He was so very grateful to Hank for doing this with him.

Hank stopped slapping him to ask him a question, "If you aren't a deviant, then why are you crying?"

"It's… simply a programmed response," Connor let his voice pitch up at the end of his sentence.

"To serve what purpose?"

Connor didn't react.

"I said—" Hank slapped him "—to serve—" and again "—what purpose?!"

"I… I don't know," Connor let himself whisper.

"So you _can_ fucking feel, I knew it. That's just going to make _this_ more interesting," Hank pulled a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open, he brought the point to rest lightly at the top button on Connor's shirt.

"How's this make you _feel_?" Hank slipped the knife into the opening of Connor's shirt and slid it down through the thread of the button, cutting it off. The button landed almost soundlessly on the carpet.

"It doesn't make me feel anything, I'm a machine."

"Yeah, sure. What happens if I keep going huh?" Hank laughed cynically.

Connor didn't react.

"Guess we'll find out," Hank concluded as he slowly worked his way down Connor's shirt. He removed each button with precision, pausing after each one to gauge Connor's reaction. Each time Connor kept his expression as neutral as possible. He could feel his optical fluid had dried on his face by the time the last button came off. Now the shirt was fully open.

"Looks like this isn't working, what about… this," Hank placed the blade underneath the metal fastening on the front of Connor's slacks.

Connor let his lip twitch.

" _Oh_. That looked like something," Hank remarked.  
He cut through that thread too, then. using the tip of his blade he pulled the zipper down to reveal Connor's boxer briefs.

"Underwear huh, that must mean that your _disgusting_ owner made you get an upgrade. Either that or you're one of those sex models. But you don't look like one I've ever seen. Still, makes things more fun for me."

Whatever Hank was channelling to sell this scene was pure gold dust, briefly Connor thought about how much of a strain he was putting on Hank. But they both knew the safe-word. The scene could end any time either of them were truly uncomfortable.

Connor shuddered involuntarily when Hank used the same technique he'd used to open the shirt to remove the two small buttons on the front of his briefs.

Hank reached inside the opening with his free hand and pulled out Connor's flaccid dick, grasping it firmly.

"You can get hard on command surely?"

Connor fixed his eyes to the floor.

"Look, this'll be a lot easier if you just answer me," Hank took the blade and dragged it up along Connor's body until he came to Connor's thirium pump. He placed the tip of the blade against the centre of the pump.

Though it was getting increasingly more difficult to restrain himself, Connor still didn't react.

The amount of tension between them now was gloriously suffocating.

"I know that with enough force I could shatter your heart, if you _really_ don't care then so be it, but if you like being _alive_ then you'd better start doing what I say," Hanks words came with all the spite and disdain that Connor craved. He adored the moments he could feel disposable, he found this fantasy always provided catharsis.

He'd been desperately holding back on getting hard for a while to enhance the scene. Denying the automatic initiation of sexual response had been excruciating, he was relieved to finally allow it to happen. He went hard instantly in Hank's grip.

"That's more like it," Hank's smile was pure menace.

Hank flicked the blade closed and let go of Connor's cock momentarily. He spun Connor around on the spot and aligned Connor against him so that Connor was cradled with his back flush to Hank's chest.

Hank was hard too.  
Connor shivered.

Hank grasped Connor's cock again, and flicked the blade open once more. He placed the flat of the blade against Connor's cheek.

"Don't say a fucking word, the only sounds I want to hear from you are your genuine moans when you finally give in and admit that you can fucking _feel_ ," Hank growled into his ear.

Shit.

At this rate he'd end up coming in a matter of minutes.  
Hank started rutting against him, his clothed dick sliding up and down along the cleft of Connor's ass.

Connor emitted a long slow moan.

"That's it tin can, let it out."

That set him off, he started moaning louder and louder, his orgasm started to catch. He felt it. Building. Each pump of Hank's fist. Each grind of Hank's cock against his ass. Each laboured huff of Hank's breath in his ear. All working together perfectly. Pushing him up. Helping him to climb over his peak.

Mere seconds before he could come Hank let go of his cock entirely, something Connor had not anticipated in the slightest.

Without meaning to, he let out a needy frustrated whine.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Did you want that? Strange, I thought that _machines_ didn't _want_ anything," Hank said so callously that it made Connor whine again.

Hank lifted the blade from Connor's face, flipped it closed and stowed it away.

"If you want to get off, you're gonna have to accommodate me. If you want to _feel_ you'll take your clothes off and you'll get on that bed. Then, and only then, I'll fuck you so hard you'll be seeing _sparks_."

Fuck. Connor almost wanted to break character just to tell Hank how much of a good job he was doing.

He turned to face Hank and shed his clothes silently, making sure his eyes were cast to the floor the whole time to display how utterly defeated he was.

Hank laughed at him deeply, an insidious mocking laugh that crawled over Connor's skin and worked it's way down into his core.

Wordlessly Connor climbed onto the bed and remained on all fours. He felt the bed dip behind him as Hank climbed up to join him. Hank's hand came to rest heavily on the base of his neck. Thumb and forefinger making a v-shape just under his neck port, Connor's synthskin receding automatically under his touch.

"Let's make this more interesting hm?"

Connor heard Hank flick open the switchblade once more, and just like they'd practised he pushed the tip of the blade into the seam of the port until it just slipped underneath.

"What. What are you doing?" Connor let panic run wild in his voice as he spoke his rehearsed line.

"What do you think? I'm going to fuck you in two holes at once."

_Jesus Christ Hank._

Hank'd inserted the blade just half a centimetre into the port, just enough to get under the surface, then he pried the port open forcing the mechanism to make a glorious crunching noise.

Connor kept his eyes forward, but he didn't miss the sound of Hank closing the knife and putting it away again. Connor had tried to get Hank to go further with it but he wasn't that comfortable. What they'd already done though, that was morethan enough to have him fighting the urge to shudder, squirm and moan.

He had barely any time to acclimatise to the feeling of the port being exposed when he felt Hank's thick long forefinger dipped inside and firmly caressed the wires on his spinal structure. His whole body lit up. Sensors triggered all over, like Hank was stroking all of him at once and he felt so small, so delicate, so…

Fragile.

That fragility was what he desired be torn apart, luckily for him Hank was about to grant him what he wished.

As soon as Hank had settled into a rhythm, slowly dragging his thumb up and down the bundle of exposed wires he started to press his cock into Connor's hole, slowly, centimetre by centimetre until he was fully sheathed. The fact Hank got in so easy was a sign that Connor had started to self lubricate at some point, but between the pressure on his wires (and by proxy his whole body) and the heady atmosphere in the room he couldn't recall exactly when.

"I'm going to make you scream static you _microwave_ and by the time I'm finished with you you'll barely be worth the _fucking plastic_ you're made of," Hank growled deeply.

Hank set a relentless pace as he pounded into Connor. The way he'd been talked down to all evening combined with the sheer force of Hank's thrusting started to sell the beautiful illusion that he was well and truly worthless. The finger on his wire dragged down even harder making him so very aware that he'd been _created_ and yes, he was alive but he wasn't _human_ and that he never would be.

His whole body might as well have been paste, he couldn't tell where anything was being sensed anymore, only that every artificial neuron in his body was being stimulated, and that he felt thoroughly penetrated. He's hit some zenith of feeling totally and utterly satisfied that he'd _never_ experienced before. 

He honestly couldn't tell when he'd come, only that he had, he could barely even register his own voice anymore, though it was loud, crackling static, breaking into a hiss of white noise. It sounded like the cone had blown out, he hoped it hadn't but he didn't have the presence of mind to even consider running a diagnostic. 

Hank's voice had him crashing back into himself, "You know what tin can.You feel so good, I can tell you were just _made_ to fucked until you're all used up." 

_Oh! Jesus Fucking Christ Hank!_

As soon as he'd gained his senses, he'd lost them again, he screeched pure white noise as his HUD flashed up forty three separate warnings too fast for him to properly register any of them, aside from the very large one in the centre of his field of vision that said, [WARNING: SYSTEM OVERHEATING - TIME TO TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN 00:25 SECS], he managed to wrestle against his vocal modulator to warn Hank. 

"Hank, Blue! Blue! I'm rebooti—" Connor managed to say before his perception fell away.  
His systems came back on one at a time, first the HUD displaying that he'd been out for precisely five minutes and thirty eight seconds, then he felt his ocular receptors activate, then slowly the pressure sensors in his body restored to full functionality and finally he regained motor control. 

He still felt the effects of his shut down as his background processes caught up, his thoughts slow and lazy, but entirely pleasant. He opened his eyes to see Hank hovering over him, delicately stroking his hair and observing him affectionately. 

"Welcome back Connor," he said, his words honeyed, dripping with total adoration. 

"Hi Hank," he said, he felt a crooked ear to ear grin form on his face. 

"How was that?" 

"Fucking. Completely. Amazing. Hank! You did so well. It was everything I hoped for." 

"Glad to hear it, I admit I was anxious." 

"I- I understand, I hope it wasn't too hard for you... Saying those kinds of things. But. Fuck. That really, _really_ did it for me. Thank you so much," Connor reached for Hank's hand and squeezed it gently. 

"It was tough, but. I was uh, more into it that I thought. When I saw how much you were getting off on it I couldn't help myself. I think it's gonna be awhile before I want to do it again though. Shit's really intense," Hank squeezed Connor's hand back. 

"That's completely fine. Thanks for trying out something this intense with me, I enjoyed it so much, and because it was with you, well, I felt safe too. I'm glad that I trust you enough that I can be fragile like that." 

Hank smiled softly, "That means so much to me Connor. I'm glad too." 

Connor looked down and noted that Hank had already cleaned him up and laid out a set of loose comfortable clothes for him to get dressed into at the end of the bed along with a fresh towel, he could also hear the bath running in the other room. 

"Hank?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Could I wash your hair for you in the bath?" Connor asked. 

"Yeah, actually. I'd like that. Thanks, Connor." 

"Well, you looked after me, now it's my turn to look after you," Connor said firmly. 

"You're so good to me Connor," Hank said, his voice warm and open. It was so nice to hear him say that so earnestly, long gone were the days where he'd deride himself or try to add any number of qualifiers to his statement. He'd come such a long way, and Connor was so proud of him for it. 

"You're equally as good to me Hank." 

"Shit, Connor. You're gonna make me cry," Hank said, his voice cracking. 

"As long as there are good tears then that’s fine. Come here," Connor opened his arms and Hank sank down onto the mattress and laid his head against Connor's chest. Connor stroked Hank's hair softly, "Let it out if you need to." 

"I think I'm okay," Hank said as he drew in a ragged breath, calming himself. 

"Okay. Hey Hank?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I love you." 

"Connor, I love you too, with everything I have." 

Connor felt his pump flutter. Hank's everything was an awful lot and it meant _everything_ to Connor to have it all. He didn't think he could be happier if he tried. 

"Now you're going to make me cry Hank!" 

"Hey, let it out if you need to," Hank said, pulling himself up to sit, "But probably in the tub yeah? Sounds like it's nearly full." 

"Okay, yeah. Sounds good." 

They fell into their aftercare routine in the bath, with the addition of Connor washing Hank's hair, which he definitely appreciated. They talked about the scene, what each of them liked, what they would change and if there was anything either of them didn't like (there wasn't). When they were done, they towel dried each other off and got dressed, then they headed to the living room to spend the night watching lighthearted films whilst snuggling on the couch. 

Tomorrow they'd fetch Sumo back from Tina's and their routine life would return to them. But for now, they rested, in each other's arms, basking in the space they'd carved out with each other as they let the indulgence and satisfaction of their evening soak into them. Hank had said that Connor had his everything, and Connor knew, that Hank had his in return. 


End file.
